An Unexpected Beginning
by Clara Barton
Summary: Heero is used to posing nude for art students, but he isn't used to them looking at him the way that Trowa Barton does. Prequel to Unexpected.


A/N: You know how I have that problem where I can't leave a one shot as a one shot? Well, the problem is back. This is a prequel to _Unexpected_, and after I finish up some of my WIPs I'll write the sequel/series for _Unexpected_.

Warnings: angst, language, fluff, sexy times

Pairing: 1x3

_An Unexpected Beginning_

Heero had been nervous the first time, three years ago, but the money had been good and in the end, it hadn't been difficult. He had just stood there for an hour and mentally composed an upcoming assignment for his Creative Writing course and he had ignored the blushes and the whispers and it had been fine.

The first time he posed naked had actually been easy - had actually been amusing because the students were more affected by his nudity than Heero was. It had been interesting to see the blushes on the faces of boys and girls alike and to notice how they never met his gaze, how they bit their lips and looked away and drew frantically.

Posing for the dart students had become his go-to source of income over the years. Since his meager work study job in the library went directly towards paying off the credit card he used to buy his textbooks and school supplies, these sessions with the art students had become the only way he was able to buy books and occasionally eat real food instead of the processed garbage at the caf.

Even so, Heero had never particularly looked forward to posing for the art students. He did it for the money and because it wasn't difficult but he didn't necessarily enjoy having twenty people stare at his body and draw him for an hour. He could hide his discomfort when someone smirked at him or spent way too much time staring at his dick or his ass, but he didn't look forward to it.

Or at least he hadn't, not until he was asked to pose for the Advanced Life Drawing class last week.

He had been clothed - the instructor liked for the students to draw a model with their clothes on first, and then nude - and it had been an early morning class, and Heero had only had one cup of coffee, barely enough to render him functional after a late night of writing. So he had been cranky and a little irritated and then he had seen him - had seen the green eyed man who seemed so engrossed in drawing that the world could fall down around him, that an earthquake or a nuclear explosion could happen and he would still only be focused on Heero's body and his sketchbook.

It was unnerving, to be the object of such complete focus, to feel that cool gaze on his body, analyzing, clinical.

And then their gaze met, when green eyes paused and stretched his arms above his head he glanced up and saw Heero looking at him and he offered Heero a slight, almost apologetic smile. Heero had to look away, had to force himself to start mentally composing a short story and not look at that side of the room for the rest of the hour because a slight, apologetic smile should not, under any circumstances, be so distracting that it made Heero momentarily forget how to breathe.

When Heero came back for the next week to model nude he was grateful, for perhaps the first time ever, that the art studio was several degrees cooler than normal room temperature. He was grateful, and then he was embarrassed - he didn't want to sport an erection, didn't want to show that off to any of these people, but he also, stupidly, didn't want green eyes to look at his small, flaccid cock and judge him.

But once again green eyes was completely focused on his work, his lips turned down ever so slightly at the corners and his brows drawn together in a frown of concentration. He seemed to stare through Heero, past his skin and down into his marrow, his gaze was so intent. Heero had never had anyone look at him so intensely, and even though it felt as if green eyes was looking through him, past him, it still felt, somehow, as if they were connected, as if green eyes was seeing something else, something besides his flesh.

That, or Heero really needed to start sleeping more and stop staying up until the early hours of the morning writing and then relying on coffee alone to get him through the day.

At the end of the hour Heero reluctantly pulled on his robe and stepped out of the circle, watching green eyes pack up his sketchbook and pencils and he wished that he was coming back next week, wished he had some excuse to have green eyes look at him like that again.

But the students started to shuffle out of the room on the way to their next class and Heero went into the supply closet to change. He wouldn't be coming back next week and maybe it was nice to have someone look at him with such intensity it bordered on reverence but probably Heero just needed to get some sleep and return Ralph's call, to take him up on that date and have sex and forget about how a slight, almost apologetic smile made him forget how to breathe.

After he had pulled on his clothes he stepped out of the supply closet and saw that green eyes was still there, still sitting on his stool in front of his easel.

"Hi," Green eyes said, his voice soft and low and Heero had to swallow hard.

"Hi," he responded.

"I'm Trowa Barton," he said and stood up, holding out his hand.

"Heero Yuy." They shook hands and Heero decided that yes, sleep was in order because his skin wasn't supposed to _tingle_ just from being touched by those long, strong fingers.

Trowa stared at him, at their joined hands and then cleared his throat and stepped back, releasing Heero's hand.

"I wondered if you were free."

"Free?"

"Not free - I'd pay you. If you were available, to model outside of class?"

Heero frowned.

This had happened before, last year, some guy had offered Heero money to come over and model for him and the guy had touched his hand as he made the offer, had winked at Heero and Heero had decided not to talk to any of the art students who waited around for him after classes ever again.

Until now. Shit. Here he was, breaking that rule.

"I'm doing a series of paintings and I, here, let me show you."

Trowa pulled out his sketchbook and his pencils and started to draw, rough outlines of Heero's body and what looked like wings and feathers.

"You just have this amazing bone structure and I couldn't get you out of my head last week," Trowa murmured while he drew.

"Is it an angel?"

Trowa's cheeks turned pink and his fingers stilled.

"I… maybe. Yeah," he admitted. "You just made me think of this kind of ethereal light and you…" he cleared his throat again.

"Yeah. Okay," Heero decided, looking over the sketch, looking at Trowa's blush and his long fingers curled around the edge of the sketchbook and his pencil.

Trowa looked up.

"How are your weekends?"

Heero shook his head.

"I work."

Trowa sighed, the sound an aggravated hiss.

"What about during the week?" Heero prompted.

Trowa shook his head.

"I don't get off work until ten during the week."

Heero shrugged.

"I don't go to sleep until two or three most days. Ten is fine with me."

Trowa frowned.

"You're sure? It'd take a while - an hour or two at a time and probably a few sittings."

Heero shrugged again.

He didn't really have anything else to do, and besides - he'd be an idiot to turn down the chance to have Trowa look at him like that again.

"It's fine," he assured Trowa.

And Trowa gave him that small smile again and once again, Heero had a hard time remembering how to breathe.

-o-

He was more than a little jealous when he showed up at Trowa's apartment the next night. Jealous because he couldn't afford to live off campus, and jealous because the one bedroom studio apartment looked warm and cozy and sure, cluttered as hell to the point that Heero's fingers itched to straighten up the stack of books perched precariously on a desk in the corner of the room. Even the bed, shoved against one wall, was rumpled, the blood red sheets tangled together.

Trowa saw Heero look around.

"Can I get you anything?" Trowa asked. "Something to eat or drink?"

Heero shook his head.

"No. I'm fine."

Trowa nodded. He gestured to the bed.

"I changed the sheets. I'd like you on your stomach, as if you're asleep, so the main focus is going to be your back. Your spine is amazing, the curve - and I think it would be perfect."

Heero felt himself blush at the praise, at Trowa's almost matter of fact tone. He spoke about Heero's body the same way he looked at him.

"You want me naked?"

"If you're comfortable with that. If not we can -"

"No, it's fine," Heero assured him.

Trowa nodded and then he hesitated.

"I'll let you get undressed. Just let me know when you're ready," he said and walked out of the room and into what looked like the kitchen.

Heero undressed and folded his clothes on a chair near the bed before laying down on his stomach.

The sheets smelled clean and they were soft, the mattress somewhere between rock hard and amazingly pliable and Heero was even more jealous. He sighed.

"Ready," he called out.

Trowa walked back into the room and he looked over Heero, a frown of concentration on his face.

"I'd like to shift you around some, do you mind?"

Heero shrugged, or tried to.

"No," he said.

Trowa approached the bed and rested one knee on the side while he reached down and ran his hands over Heero's back.

"Can you shift your arm - yeah. And your leg up, spread it a little and - yes, perfect." Trowa ran his hands up to Heero's shoulders and Heero shivered. "Sorry. My hands are cold."

"It's fine," Heero assured him. Trowa's hands felt fine. Felt much more than fine.

"Can you tilt your head this way, just - yes. Great."

Trowa eased away from the bed and Heero watched him drag over a chair and start sketching.

"Just let me know when you want to move or stretch," Trowa murmured, his eyes raking over Heero's body, his hand dancing across the sketchbook.

The sound of Trowa's pencil scratching across paper was soothing, and the apartment was warm and Trowa's gaze, his cool, piercing green eyes, almost hypnotic and after fifteen minutes of staring at those green eyes Heero felt his own eyes start to get heavy.

"You can close your eyes," Trowa said, his voice low, "I'll work on your face later."

Heero let himself close his eyes and he breathed in deeply, breathed in the warm, clean sheets and he fell asleep.

When he woke up it took a minute for him to realize where he was, for him to realize that he wasn't in his own bed, that the blanket draped over him wasn't his - and then he remembered where he was and he sat up.

Trowa was on the couch, curled up and asleep and when Heero got out of the bed and checked the time on his cellphone he saw that it was four in the morning.

_Shit_.

He pulled on his clothes and watched Trowa shift on the couch, watched him wince and roll over and Heero sighed. The couch wasn't very big, and Trowa's long legs were dangling over the side, his neck at an odd angle and Heero imagined he wasn't that comfortable.

He approached the couch and gently shook Trowa's shoulder.

"Mhm, 'm not ready to go," Trowa mumbled and turned away.

Heero had to smirk, at Trowa's slurred speech, at the whiny tone.

"Trowa." He gripped his shoulder a little harder.

Trowa's eyes opened and he stared at Heero.

"Hi."

Heero had to smile.

"Hi."

Trowa yawned and he stretched.

"What time is it?" he asked around the yawn.

"Four."

Trowa shuddered. He looked at Heero and noticed he was dressed.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep," Heero said.

Trowa shrugged.

"It was fine. I… I sort of felt weird drawing you when you didn't know, though so I just let you sleep. You looked like you needed it."

Heero felt a pang of guilt. Trowa hadn't even been able to do his work.

"I'm sorry," he said again.

Trowa shook his head.

"It's fine," he insisted.

"You don't have to pay me for tonight," Heero said. "And - I can stay longer tomorrow night."

Trowa arched an eyebrow.

"Longer than four in the morning? I think my hand might start to cramp."

Heero gave him a look and Trowa smiled slightly.

"You should go to bed," Heero suggested.

Trowa stood up from the couch and stretched.

"I wanted to, but there was this naked guy in it earlier," Trowa muttered.

"And that's a problem?" Heero snorted and then he caught himself.

Trowa was giving him a look and Heero flushed.

_Shit_. He didn't even know if Trowa was gay, didn't even know if he was interested and now he was saying stupid things and he was going to make this weird and awkward and -

"I guess it would be less of a problem if I wasn't so boring he fell asleep on me in the first place," Trowa said, his voice amused, teasing and Heero relaxed.

"I should go and let you sleep," he said.

Trowa nodded.

"You should try to sleep more too."

Heero nodded.

They stared at each other.

"Right. See you tomorrow?"

"I think you mean tonight," Trowa said as he yawned again and crawled onto his bed, flopping down face first. "Lock the door on your way out please," he sounded half asleep again already and Heero smirked, watched as Trowa curled up in the blankets, and then he let himself out of the apartment, locking it behind him.

-o-

Heero made sure to drink two cups of coffee before he went over to Trowa's that night and promised himself that he would not, under any circumstances, fall asleep on him again.

When he laid down on the red sheets he breathed in and he could smell Trowa, and he breathed deeply and then blushed as he realized what he was doing. As he realized just how stupid he was being.

"What's your major?" Trowa asked him as he sketched.

"Hm?"

"I figured I should talk to you or something to keep you awake this time," Trowa said, glancing at Heero's face for a second and offering that slight, apologetic smile before he turned back to his sketchbook.

"Creative Writing," Heero said. "You?"

"Fine Art, Painting. What do you want to write?"

"Fiction. I've had a few short stories in the Symposium before," he added, referencing the art and literary journal the school published each semester.

"I know," Trowa said. "I read them. I liked the ghost story you wrote last year."

Heero wondered if Trowa had had his work in the Symposium and he felt guilty - he should have looked.

"I liked all of them," Trowa continued, "but I liked that one the most. You're talented."

Heero felt even more guilty and he felt unsure of how to take the compliments. He was used to praise from his professors, but he had never before been complimented on his writing while he was laying naked in a man's bed while the man drew him.

"Thank you," he finally said.

Trowa smiled at him.

"You're welcome."

"What do you - want to paint?" Heero asked, knowing it wasn't quite the right question.

Trowa shrugged one shoulder.

"Whatever I can sell?" he sighed. "I've got the double concentration in drawing and I'll probably end up illustrating medical textbooks or something to pay the bills but I'd rather… I'd rather do things like this."

He turned his sketchbook around and let Heero look over it.

Heero stared.

It was just pencil, but it was still amazing, still breathtaking in detail. Heero looked at his body, looked at the curve of his ass and his spine and the way the sheets tangled around his legs and the broken wings Trowa had drawn on his back, the feathers that surrounded him.

"What happened to my wings?" Heero had to ask.

Trowa's lips twitched, clearly amused by Heero's question and the sadness in his voice.

"Broken when you fell from heaven," Trowa said with a shrug. "I'd like to do another one, with you standing up and I'll have the full wings in that one, kind of wrapped around you I think."

Heero arched an eyebrow.

"Stand up," Trowa instructed, doing the same.

Heero did so and Trowa approached him and positioned his body, raised his hands up high and tilted his chin and then he ran his hands over Heero's sides, his fingertips barely touching Heero's skin.

"Like this, and the wings would curve around you, like this."

Trowa's eyes were intense, concentrated on the image in his mind, and Heero swallowed hard.

"Or maybe…" Trowa frowned and moved Heero's left hand down to his chest, positioning his palm over his heart. "Maybe that instead."

Trowa's hand rested on his, his long fingers splayed wide and Heero shivered.

Trowa frowned and stepped back.

"Sorry. You're probably cold. I think I'm done for tonight. Tomorrow I can start the painting itself."

Heero nodded but he hesitated.

"If… if you're still available?" Trowa asked, seeing his hesitation.

"I am," Heero assured him.

Trowa smiled.

"Good. I know it's not that exciting but I really appreciate this. You're perfect."

Trowa flushed as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Heero felt his own cheeks grow red.

As he dressed he tried very hard not to think about Trowa's words or Trowa's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Trowa said when Heero walked towards the door.

"For what?" Heero asked.

Trowa frowned.

"For embarrassing you. You saying too much."

Heero shrugged.

"I'm not… I'm not used to anyone looking at me the way you do."

Trowa sighed and he looked away.

"Sorry," he said again. "Look, you don't have to come back or -"

"I don't _mind_ it, Trowa," Heero interrupted. "I like it. I like the way you look at me."

Trowa looked at him, still frowning, clearly trying to judge the truth of Heero's words. And then he smiled, that slight, apologetic smile and Heero forgot how to breathe again.

-o-

Heero had been nervous the first time, the first night Trowa cleaned his brushes and set them aside and joined him on the bed, but Trowa kissed him and confessed that he was a virgin too and they took their time, Trowa tracing the contours of Heero's body with his lips, following the path his eyes had travelled so many times before, until Heero was shuddering and arching against him while Trowa smiled.

For weeks it was just that, just kissing and touching until Heero finally had to beg Trowa to just fuck him already and Trowa had chuckled, his rare, throaty amusement turning Heero on even more.

The first time he topped Trowa, the first time he tangled their hands together and bit into Trowa's shoulder when he came, he felt like the world had exploded, like everything had shattered and reformed and it felt so amazing and perfect.

Trowa asked him to stay the night, curled up against his back and kissed his neck and laced their fingers together and Heero fell asleep to the sound of Trowa's heartbeat, the tickle of his hair, his hot damp breath on his shoulder.

That first morning, waking up and laughing at Trowa's hair, at the wild mess it had become overnight, did something funny to Heero's chest, went beyond forgetting how to breathe.

Trowa scowled and muttered something about not everyone being perfect and Heero dragged him back to bed and worshipped Trowa's body with the same intensity Trowa usually spent on him.

"You are perfect," Heero whispered against Trowa's skin, kissing the pounding heartbeat and holding Trowa's gaze until Trowa smiled at him.


End file.
